


We Could Run Away

by MeghanAnna



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 13:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10164005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeghanAnna/pseuds/MeghanAnna
Summary: Just Bellamy taking care of a cold, wet Clarke on a snowy day.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Are you ready for some real, teeth-rotting fluff? I've got it for you...

“You’re cute when you’re all red and sweaty,” Bellamy jokes when Clarke walks into his apartment. She does _not_ laugh in return. “Why do you look like that?”

Her hair is covered with a knit hat, but what’s peeking out at the bottom is wet. Her face is red and her hands are trying to rip her winter coat off, but her gloves are making it hard. When she doesn’t answer him—just huffs—he pulls on one of her sleeves until she’s only a few inches from him.

“May I?” he asks, smirking at her with his hand on her zipper, just waiting to pull it down for her.

She huffs again, but nods. Bellamy unzips her coat quickly and then picks up one of her hands to peel off a glove. He does the same with the other one before unfurling the scarf from around her neck. Every item he touches is soaking wet and when he looks out his window, he notices how badly it’s still snowing.

“Are you okay?” he asks her, tossing her mittens and scarf into a pile near his front door. Clarke pulls her jacket off the rest of the way and then her hat before throwing them both on top of the pile.

“It’s snowing out there,” she says and he tries really hard not to smile, but fails.

“You don’t say.”

“Shut up,” she whines, shoving him back and he laughs.

“You know that you live in this building, right? It’s not like you walked over here from the other side of the city,” he reminds her and she shoots daggers at him with her eyes. “Want some sweats or something? You’re dripping on my fake wood floors.”

“Yes, please,” she says, softening a bit and he nods toward his bedroom. She follows him down the hall, kicking her boots off at some point and he knows that when he walks back to his living room there are going to be puddles of melted snow and ice. Once he pulls out a pair of gray sweatpants and a long sleeve t-shirt from the last 10k he ran, Clarke’s face looks closer to its normal color and her teeth aren’t audibly chattering any more.

“I had to clean off my car and move it so that the plow doesn’t knock off my mirror again,” she finally explains. “I parked it behind the building where the McCoys usually keep their car because they went to his parent’s for the weekend. The spot was clean, but the walk to the building’s door was a nightmare. And I was already gross and wet from digging out my car in the first place. I hate winter.”

“You say that every winter,” he reminds her, but she just throws her arms out to her sides.

“I mean it every winter!”

“Yet, you’re still here. There are plenty of places you can go where it doesn’t snow, you know.”

“Can I just have the clothes, please?” she asks, holding her hands out for him to drop them into. She smiles sarcastically when he does and he silently excuses himself from his own room.

Bellamy grabs a laundry basket from his hall closet on the way back to the living room and tosses her gloves, scarf, and coat into it. He finds Clarke’s boots and digs the socks that got stuck—like they always do—and throws those into the basket as well. Clarke finds him lining her boots up next to his.

“What are you doing?” she asks, leaning casually against the wall.

“Where are your wet clothes? I’ll throw them in the laundry with the rest of this stuff.”

“Bellamy, I live three flights above you. I can do this myself,” she tells him, but he just shrugs and walks over to him.

“You _could_ , but then you’d have to go back to your apartment,” he tells her and she smiles shyly at the floor. “You’re already here.”

“So, this is how Bellamy Blake finally got me out of my clothes,” she jokes and Bellamy barks out a laugh. His hand cups her jaw and he tips her head back so she’s looking him in the eye again.

“Next step is getting you out of _my_ clothes,” he says, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Sit down. I’ll be in the bathroom throwing your clothes in the wash.”

“Such a gentleman,” she remarks before kissing him on the cheek.

As he walks down the hallway, Bellamy calls over his shoulder, “Play your cards right and I might just make you some hot chocolate.”

“Oh, boy,” she laughs. “Bellamy Blake, you sure know how to woo a girl.”

Things with Clarke have always been… weird. And complicated. When they first met, they could barely stand each other. But the second they found even the tiniest piece of common ground, their relationship started to change. They ended up on the same sides of stupid fights instead of opposing ones, then they became actual friends who did homework together or ate dinner in the same general vicinity. Eventually, their friendship turned less and less hostile and more and more familiar and comfortable.

Clarke became the person Bellamy went to when he needed to vent about school or work or Octavia. Bellamy became the one that Clarke wanted to watch documentaries with and comfort her after her tumultuous breakup with Lexa.

They joked a lot more and eventually the teasing shoves between friends started to linger. Eye rolls became much more fond. Her smile was the last thing he thought about before drifting to sleep. Her ridiculous morning snapchats—where she complained about how early it was or how much she hated her job—were the first things he checked for on his phone when he woke up.

It was only very recently when he decided to tell her how he felt. It’d been a year since her breakup with Lexa. She’d stopped sleeping with Niylah so they could become actual friends. He waited as long as he could before he pulled her aside at Monty’s birthday party and spilled his guts to her.

They were both a little drunk, but they handled the whole situation surprisingly well. She’d kissed him on the cheek and told him she didn’t want to screw anything up, but that she felt the same about him. He couldn’t stop smiling. Not even when she insisted that they take it slow. The transition would happen, but it had to happen carefully. They were too important to each other.

Now, they’re testing the waters. Their flirting is much more obvious and honest. They spend the same amount of time together, but they sit a lot closer and kiss each other casually on cheeks and foreheads. It takes forever for them to say goodbye to each other at the end of a night out because they just don’t want to go their separate ways. Taking it slow is the right thing to do because they _are_ so close and important to each other, but it’s also kind of torture.

Once Bellamy finds her clothes in a pile on his bathroom floor, he throws everything into the dryer and goes back to the living room.

“Where’s the hot chocolate?” Clarke asks, lifting her feet up so he can sit on the other end of the couch.

“Guess you didn’t play your cards right,” he says and she laughs before maneuvering so she can curl herself around his body. “Getting warmer, though,” he teases, dropping a quick kiss on the crown of her head. He puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her even closer.

“Thank you,” she murmurs against his neck.

“For what? I didn’t even make you the hot chocolate yet.”

“For the clothes,” she starts, looking up at him, “and not kicking me out of your house even though I walked in her looking like a drowned rat.”

“Hey, I told you that you looked cute,” he reminds her and she huffs a laugh against his cheek.

“I really like you,” she breathes, resting her forehead against his and squeezing her eyes shut.

Bellamy smiles to himself and runs a hand soothingly down her back. “I really like you.”

“I’m terrified,” she admits and he nods against her head, causing her to open her eyes. He lifts a hand to her cheek and pulls her face away just enough to get a good look at her.

“This is going to work,” he promises and she smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You don’t know that,” she reminds him and it’s just such a _Clarke_ thing to say. She might be right, but she might also be thinking too much.

Bellamy gets it—really, he does. Her past relationships have ended badly. His, for the most part, haven’t. But he’s been there through hers, so he does understand the over thinking and worrying. But he’s not Finn and he’s not Lexa.

“I don’t,” he relents—because he _can’t_ know it. But he knows what he feels and how much he needs her. He loves her. Really, truly, and deeply. “But, even if it doesn’t, you’re not going to get rid of me. I’m really good at being friends with my exes. Ask Gina.”

“I have,” she admits and he smiles. “She and everyone else has told me to just get over my fears and jump your bones.”

“That works for me,” Bellamy tells her, twirling a piece of her wet hair around his finger. “Is now a good time?”

Clarke rolls her eyes and pinches him on the back of his arm. He’s only slightly embarrassed at how loudly he screeches. But the way it makes Clarke laugh is enough to make him feel better. He really wants to kiss her. For _real_. They kissed in college a couple of times, during a childish game of spin the bottle and again after she broke up with Finn. The first time was pretty lame—they still didn’t like each other all that much—and the second time was drunk and messy and Bellamy put a stop to it very quickly. She never brought it up again. Neither did he.

But now… Now he _wants_ to kiss her. To be fair, he’s _wanted_ to kiss her for a long time, but not like this. Not like he needed to.

He can’t make the first move, though. Not when she’s so afraid that they’ll go up in flames. He’s not going to force her into doing something she doesn’t want to do. But damn. He really wants to kiss her.

Clarke finally stops laugh, letting out a deep breath as she rests her forehead against his again. Her fingers slide into his curls and his eyes fall shut at the feel of her nails running over his scalp.

“Want to get snowed in together?” she finally asks him and he quickly nods. “Good because I don’t want to walk up those three flights of stairs to my own apartment.”

“You really don’t have to,” he promises, opening one eye at a time until he can see her watching him. “Ever.”

Clarke smiles and before he knows what’s happening, her lips are on his and their finally sharing a _real_ kiss. He tugs her onto his lap and wraps both of his arms around her waist. Her lips are soft, despite the cold weather and her morning in the snow. Her whole body is warm against his and every time his lips move against hers, she makes this little sound that he’s going to hear running through his mind for the rest of his life.

Bellamy finally pulls his lips from hers when Clarke’s hands fall to his chest. He knows that if he doesn’t, the kiss won’t end as a kiss, but instead a mid-morning romp on his couch.  

“I hope that means you’re ready to get over those fears and eventually jump my bones,” he breathes and she hides her face in his neck, laughing. “Clarke?”

“Hey, Bellamy?” she asks and he tugs on a strand of hair so she’s looking at him again.

“Yes, Clarke?”

“Will you go out with me?” she asks with a roll of her eyes and he pulls her in for a quick kiss.

“I guess so,” he tells her with a smile.

“Only if you make me that hot chocolate, though,” she tells him, rolling off of his lap so she’s on her own cushion of the couch. “I think I’ve finally played all of my cards.”

“That’s only fair,” he laughs, running his hand through his hair. Just before he moves to stand up, she leans over and kisses him again. “Especially if you keep doing that.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to stop now that I’ve started, honestly.”

Bellamy quirks his eyebrows and goes to the kitchen to make them both some hot chocolate. While he’s pouring the milk into two mugs, he feels Clarke’s hands come around his body as she hugs him from behind.

“You’re here,” she says simply and Bellamy squeezes her hand before turning in her arms.

“What?” he asks, cupping her face between his palms.

“I hate winter and I know there are a million other places I can go where I wouldn’t have to deal with the snow and slush and everything gross,” she says and Bellamy nods for her continue. “But you’re here. I mean… _Everyone_ is here. But, you are too. Most importantly.”

“How about when I’m done with grad school we just say ‘screw it’ and leave everyone here while we move to Hawaii or something?” he asks and she nods excitedly. “They’ll thank us, really. They’ll always have a place to vacation.”

Clarke smiles slowly until he can’t imagine her smiling any wider. “Okay. That sounds perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://bellamyfrecklefaceblake.tumblr.com)!


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